Baby, Our Heaven's Burning
by LightofaThousandSuns
Summary: In memory of the recent tragedy in Poland. While a nation mourns a heavy loss, Toris must face Fate head on--and mourn his own love. Only Time and Fate will tell if the wounds will heal. T for language, character death. LietxPol, references to GilxPol.


A/N: I decided to write this on a spur of a moment, because of what has occurred in the country of Poland.

If you have not heard, the nation has suffered a tragedy this past weekend—96 of the government and civilian leaders were killed, including President Lech Kaczynski and his wife, and the top military and civilian leaders, in a plane crash in Russia.

There was heavy fog, and it is said by some that the pilot failed orders of the Russian air traffic control to not land.

I have no doubt that the great Poland will rise up from this, but this is a time of mourning, loss—and for prayers, no matter what religion you are.

So that this tragedy, and that these lives, are not forgotten, this story is written—may Poland find Heaven and Peace soon, and again.

Warnings: Character death, other deaths connected right to the tragedy, light swearing. Pairing is, of course, LithuaniaxPoland.

Song Inspiration:

- "Final Goodbye", by Rhianna (Quoted at beginning)

- "Hate Me", by Blue October

- "Always Be My Baby", by Mariah Carey

- "Half Life", by Duncan Sheik

- "Gone Too Soon", by Michael Jackson

The Poem written at the ending was written by yours truly :]

* * *

"_..I never should have waited so long to say_

_What I've always known since the very first day_

_Thought that you would stay forever with me_

_But the time has come to leave_

_Before we turn out the lights and close our eyes_

_I'll tell you a secret, I've held all my life_

_It's you that I live for and for you I die_

_So I'll lay here with you, till the final goodbye_

_Hold, draw me close, close to my lips_

_Listen intently, as I tell you this_

_Outside the world wages its wars_

_I'll rest in peace as long as you know_

_Before we turn out the lights and close our eyes_

_I'll tell you a secret, I've held all my life_

_It's you that I live for and for you I die_

_So I'll lay here with you, till the final goodbye_

_Promise you our love will carry on_

_Until you turn eternal, we belong…_

_His respectful lips for the last time_

_Spell out the lyrics to love in the sky_

_It's you that I live for and for you I die_

_So I'll lay here with you, till the final goodbye, goodbye…"_

_- "Final Goodbye", by Rhianna_

* * *

A tape, a tape Toris never planned to get rid of…A cold bed he wished he could do away with, a sunrise he longed not to see…

But it was the tape that had his whole attention…His answering machine tape, which would become worn out at this rate, but did that really matter…?

_"Hey, Toris! It's you-know-who, haha! God, this…this airport is like, such a mess today! Someone call the janitor, haha!"_

His voice was still as clear as day…

"_So, like, we're heading to Russia…Eeeeh…Not the best trip, but the President wants me there, heh. Ah, well, it is a memorial service, so maybe Ivan will understand? And like, not try to grab my toosh, hah."_

Toris had the tape, the whole machine, too, now, in this Polish hotel room, as he listened with his head in his shaking hands; the memorial service was in an hour; President Kaczynski's body was coming home on this day…and so was Feliks' own.

"_Sooo, I miss you!" A whine from the Polish blonde, "God, like…why are you so busy, you bastard? Hah…God, I miss you…And what are you doing right now? Like, why aren't you picking up the phone, huh?" A laugh, a wry laugh…While a voice that trailed off into a despondent sigh…_

Yes, why had he not picked up the phone…?

"_Look, I know we had that…that argument earlier…before I left Lithuania-"_

Oh, yes, that had been why…

"_But…I just wanted you to know that…that hey, you were right…I was…I had just been a stupid idiot, and…like…I…I was drunk and…And you weren't there, and…and we had just argued before, and…I was so…so mad…" Feliks' voice cracked at this point, and it was the part of the message that Toris always hated to hear, "A-And Gilbert was…was there, and we just…He was…I-I'm so sorry, Toris, your accusations were right…"_

Well, they had only been guesses, if the Lithuanian wanted to admit all of the truth—but he had seen a blue coat left at Feliks' home, and had just shouted it out, that the Polish male had copulated with that silver-haired bastard brother of Ludwig Beilschmidt.

…It did not matter now, now did it…?

_"We…We really haven't spent a lot of time together, h-huh...? Not recently… I mean, lots of work and…stuff…" A pause, then, "Toris, baby, I miss you, and…and I'm s-so sorry…I wish I didn't have to go to Russia, we could sort this out…I mean, we…we sorted stuff out before, right…? Like that whole long period of you going after Natalia…? Heh, glad you got over here…I mean, did you ever realize how happy I was when you said you were moving on…? I kept thinking, 'God, like…Now he might actually fall in love with me…'"_

Which, of course, had happened, and Toris could only give a sour smile at Feliks' words—he could picture the blonde boy wiping his eyes, as he called him…for the last time…from the airport in the other European nation.

"_And you totally did, I was so lucky…God, Toris…You don't know how sorry I am…I blame myself, wholly—Well, okay, I do blame Gilbert too. He did make the first move…but I could've said no. I…Just…I know that after this trip is over, I have to come back to face you, face-to-face…Okay, that was, like, redundant, but you know what I mean, right…? I mean, this is…this is so cowardly to do over the phone, confess all of this, but I really didn't have a choice…And I couldn't go to Russia with a guilty conscience, baby…"_

And Toris did not blame him—he was glad Feliks had said it all then; or else he would have never known…

But he was even happier that Feliks continued the rest of the message with a tad lighter note,

"_Toris, I…I know you're probably pissed at me…But…But…I just hope you understand enough that…that you will wait for me in Poland when I'm supposed to come back, okay? Please? I…I know you probably doubt me, but…but I love you, Toris, I really do…"_

"…Love you too, Feliks." It needed to be said aloud, even if the Polish male was no longer around to hear it—any of it.

"_Heh, my little 'Liet'. God, do you think I could run away from this memorial service? Haha, probably not…but it'd be cool, right? We could go on a…an impromptu vacation! Wouldn't that be, like, amazing?"_

Yes…that would have been amazing; it would have been beautiful, wonderful…

And the thought of it brought tears to the brunette's eyes.

"…_I have to go now, Toris. The President is saying the plane's about to take off, so I gotta hang up now, okay?"_

"…D-Don't hang up…" A futile plea, for no other ears to hear.

Oh, if only he had…if only he had not been angry, and had picked up the phone. Then Feliks' voice could…could have really been talking to him, not just a machine…

"_I'll miss you…But hey! M-Maybe I'll try to give you a call later? Once we land in Russia? Wouldn't that be great?" Another pause, "Toris, just…just remember that I love you, okay…? And…And I have never stopped, not since we were little…You were always so sweet, so loyal…And so cute when Ivan tried to grope you, haha…" Feliks' voice cracked once more, "I-I love you, don't you forget that, got it! Like, we're gonna be together, we'll get through this—Like, if we need therapy or something, that's just fine with me, okay…? Whatever you want, baby, I'll do it…I mean…P-People have always said that…that we were gonna get married…I-I mean, if Alfred and Arthur could do it, w-why couldn't we…?"_

"Y-Yeah…We…We could have…" Green eyes were beginning to flood with uninhibited tears.

"_So…So just wait, okay…? We'll get through this, and I'll be back soon enough, Toris…I love you, and just…never forget that, 'kay?....Bye, baby…"_

A click, and the tape was done, and Toris gave a sniffle; it was the last memory he had of his beloved, his beloved who had burned up in the Russian wilderness, for a reason that was still unknown this early Sunday morning.

If only he had picked up the phone…then he could have returned Feliks' comments, and say the truth: That they could put this past behind them, that he could forgive him—like he always had, for any infraction, for any argument.

…He could have told him that he had already bought the ring…

A knock at the door stirred Toris from his sorrow, but only mildly; a zombie walked to the door, with wet eyes, frazzled chocolate locks, in a black suit that was already stained with salty wetness.

A driver stood there, in the same dark attire, accented with a hat that gave off a classic air, "Mister Toris Lorinaithis? Your limo has arrived, Sir. The President and his assistant's bodies have just arrived."

"…Thank you…I shall be downstairs shortly."

The nineteen-year old closed the door as the other male nodded, and proceeded to leave; Toris had eyes for only the tape, and he once again sat himself on the bed, deigning to listen to it one last time, before departing for a final goodbye.

But he need not listen to it all—there was only one more part the brunette wanted to hear:

"_So…So just wait, okay…? We'll get through this, and I'll be back soon enough, Toris…I love you, and just…never forget that, 'kay?....Bye, baby…"_

Again and again, Toris rewound the tape, hearing those last statements over and over, until they were memorized in his brain for all of Eternity; granted, he had already memorized the entire recording, but this part especially…this part especially needed to be remembered.

"…_Bye, Baby…"_

Heh, it had become a spontaneous habit of Feliks' over the past three months—to call him 'baby'. He never found out why, either; their ages were the same, and Toris was the more…masculine of the two, so why 'baby'?

"…_I love you, and just…never forget that, 'kay?...Bye, Baby…"_

"I love you too…"

_"…Bye, Baby…"_

"…Bye, Feliks..."

This was a personal, informal goodbye—the formalities were coming up, were minutes away, and Toris was far from ready. He could barely hold his emotions in, but he figured that was expected at this time…

…And the Lithuanian found himself kissing the tape recorder, as if it held Feliks' corpse…

And somber steps echoed out, after the machine was placed reverently back onto the bed; the hallway of the hotel was filled with mourners who had traveled far and wide to give a farewell to a fallen leader. The Lithuanian President and Parliament, the Seimas, had accompanied Toris to Poland, to grieve for the loss as well.

His mind was blank as he descended the stairs, and entered the limo; but it had been blank ever since he had turned on the news, and had seen the story…

_…No…Not then…_

He had _thought _that Feliks had been on the plane; the call had been placed yesterday afternoon, more towards the evening, and though Toris had heard the message play the night before, had heard his lover's voice for the final time, it did not register right away the next morning, the day of the accident, that Feliks had _died_…That he had really _been on that plane_…His anger had blocked the thoughts from registering right then and there…The TV, showing it all as the sun rose higher and higher yesterday morn, had not assisted in telling the truth…

…The messenger coming to his door, though, had…

He had been an old man, with hair as white as the Russian snow, eyes as blue as the Baltic sea…And had somberly stated,

"I am sorry for your loss…"

…What a clichéd line; what did they know, hmm? What did they know of _his_ loss? Of _Poland's_ loss?

No one really did know, did they…?

Only the mourning knew of loss—unless you were mourning, you had no idea; and Toris, as he entered the limo, could hide his loss no more…

Tears began to silently fall; and Toris did nothing to stop them…

…Until the driver of the limo handed him a handkerchief, while murmuring,

"For your eyes, Sir…"

"…" The cloth was silently taken, and used…Until the Lithuanian flipped it over, revealing two initials engraved,

_F.L._

"…S-Sir, was…What-"

"He…" The driver cleared his throat; Toris could not recall his name, but he knew he had been Feliks' own driver for years, so it was no surprise to him when the man stated, "He…He asked that it be given to you. That…That I stop by some time after I dropped him off at the airport, so…"

"…I understand, thank you."

No further words were spoken, and Toris could only rest his head against the leather seat as they drove on, the site of the public viewing and mourning some twenty-minutes away…

* * *

It was a beautiful set-up, Toris has never seen anything more beautiful…Flowers scattered the steps of the Presidential Palace of Warsaw, and the brunette had never seen the city look more beautiful…or somber.

The hearses had arrived just minutes before Toris' own car, and Feliks' pink coffin stood out in the abysmal scenery; the man would have laughed at the color, had he had been elsewhere.

The sight of it brought back the memory of Feliks insisting that when he had died, he desired a pink coffin—apparently Someone else had heard him, and had blessedly allowed this act to come forth.

The steps were covered in roses and lilies, and many would soon be allowed in for public mourning—but private moments were coming forth first, and Toris was allowed his place now.

Soft whispers proceeded from the standing crowd, each man, woman, and child waiting to say goodbye to a leader that would be surely missed for the rest of time; some held flowers in their shaking and cold hands, already having placed a few on the steps—the rest would find their place by the two coffins, for Feliks had had many, many admirers too.

Say what you want about the man with the valley-girl speak, he could be a fighter when called upon—and his country had called upon him many a time.

Silence, though, came to pass—a reverent sort of silence among the crowd as Toris ascended the steps at a snail's pace, hands shaking, and he cursed himself internally; he had been so wrapped up in Feliks' last words that he had not stopped for a flower, and-

"Toris."

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and the young lad started, only to find out, with a turn of his head, that it was Alfred Jones, his other hand extending a single black rose.

"A-Alfred…"

"My boss sends his condolences, Toris. He wished he could come, but…there's some…summy thing-"

"Summit, you twat, and can you at least be somewhat smart during this time?" A voice snapped from the other direction, and Toris turned to his left to see Arthur Kirkland coming up the stairs right behind the pair.

"Hey, hey, fine, fine." Alfred huffed, "Yeah, some…nuclear-summit. So I said I'd come. I'm…We're-" A quick gesture to the Brit, "…We're sorry…"

"He was a good man, Toris." Arthur heartily volunteered, "And…I am sure…"

"…It supposedly did not hurt…" The brunette out of the trio murmured, "They died on impact."

"…Would you like us to-"

"Yes, please." He already knew what they were asking, and he knew also that he could not face this alone. Feliks was in there…And…And he feared that he would faint from the sight.

Two hands found their way to his shoulders—one from each ally—as he was guided into the Palace, and there, in the foyer, were the two coffins, while seats were spread out to the left and right for the families, and for the mourners that wished to sit and pray to their Roman Catholic God.

The black of the President's own coffin glimmered in the same light as Feliks' own salmon, but Toris could not help but think that the blonde would have screamed at how they 'clashed', color-wise, and shout, 'LIKE, they need to be CHANGED NOW!'

Some of Kaczynski's family was already there, seated, and gave Toris welcoming nods—they knew of his relationship to the Polish nineteen year old assistant; but the Lithuanian only had eyes for his lover's last place of rest, and immediately after taking the journey down the central aisle, his feet pulled him towards the coffin.

"…They said his body was not…h-horrible…" He murmured to the other two, whom had followed him like sentries or shadows, "T-There was no need for me to identify h-him, but…It was bad enough as to where I should not glance…"

"You have not seen it?" Arthur probed, and his eyebrows shot up further when Toris just shook his head,

"N-No…Nor do I want to."

The black rose was placed on top of the coffin, where a wreath of red and white and other ebony roses stood, with the banner of 'Honored Polish Hero and Friend' coated the cover; the President's own was covered with the Polish Flag, respectfully done.

"…" His lover was in there, lying in there—most likely with what remained of his hands folded over his chest, a Crucifix settled between nimble fingers that had loved to tickle and tease; sunny locks most likely were spread out on the matching pillow, or what was left of them.

…But he did not want to remember _this_ Feliks…

When the message had first gotten to his brain that it was all over, him and Feliks, he had bubbled up nonsense: That Feliks was alive, that he was just…u-underground, or…or kidnapped by Ivan, or Gilbert had just…just taken him away…!

…The death toll of ninety-seven said otherwise…

…It would have only been ninety-six had Feliks been alive…

Emerald orbs were glued to tomb, and Toris could feel the tears coming, with shaking knees being the whip cream to top it all off; but the cry that came from his lips was the cherry, and his body fell somewhat forward, hands placing themselves flat against the surface of the coffin, while lips touched it too, and gave it a reverent kiss of goodbye.

"…Bye Bye…Feliks…B-Bye, Bye Baby…"

It had always been his nickname—and now it was for Feliks to have it said to him…one last time…

He could not move, and neither the American nor the European on his sides choose to pull him away; they too were caught up in drying their own eyes, while sneakily holding hands.

"…G-Goodbye…Goodbye…"

And now, Toris was wishing he had brought the ring he was to have given Feliks in a few days—he would have asked it be put on his corpse…So that it went with him, and who knew—maybe one who had an item in their casket had it with them in the Heavens…?

"B-Bye Baby…" He was stating the same phrases repeatedly, but he far from cared, and no one else did—his sobbing was choked, but strong—and harsh. It bounced off the Palace's walls like rubber balls, and it caused shivers and shakes in the rest of the mourners.

"…Shh…" Arthur could only whisper, while placing a hand on Toris' shoulder, "Easy, lad…Easy…"

_Why…Why couldn't I go first…? Why…? And why this way…!? Why not sickness, why not something…something common…!? Like old age…!?_

His personal Heaven was burning, and Toris had no water to put It out—he could only continue to cry, eventually relinquishing his hold on Feliks' coffin, and he fell into an embrace consisting of him, and the other two—two happy, married men; Toris would have told them how he and Feliks admired them so much, how they were the epitome of marriage to them. Sure, the hot-headed Brit and the dopey American had their fights, their squabbles—but their passion and love made it all vanish away like rising steam.

But why would he say it _now_…?

There was no reason to...

The duo helped the grieving widower, in a sense, down the center aisle once more, after Toris had insisted he could no longer be in that building.

The exit out of the Palace was somber, none of the three men speaking a single word—that is, until a man called out Toris' name in calm reverence,

"Toris, Toris!"

Said male lifted his head, coming to lock onto the figure of Ivan Braginski advancing up the stairs, two sunflowers in his gloved hands.

The sight at first sent shivers up the Lorinaithis' spine, but once he realized that violet eyes were not menacing on this day, but sorrowful, he calmed himself enough to not scream in fear at the Russian's advancement.

"…For you." A sunflower was offered, a peaceful gesture, "My bosses…they will be in Warsaw for the day, honoring your losses."

Toris could see that the Russian President, along with the famed Putin, were steps behind Ivan, and he gave all men their due acknowledgment with a nod, and a,

"Thank you, Ivan…"

"_Da_…The…other flower is for…for Feliks."

"…He would love it, Ivan...thank you."

The conversation ended with a nod from the gray-haired Braginski, who proceeded up to the Palace's entrance; Arthur and Alfred proceeded to move closer to the standing-still Toris, who clutched the flower to his aching chest, but the man managed to whisper, "Thank you, you both…But I can handle it from here."

"Are…Are you going to the burying, Toris?" The younger blonde probed.

Toris only shook his head, a common action for the day, "No, Alfred. I must go home. I…I cannot be here any longer. It…is just too much for me…"

"…Alright. Please, take care of yourself." The Brit spoke with paternal tones, and Alfred added a statement consisting of,

"Yeah, look…I'll call you in a few days, alright?"

"…Yes, thank you."

And from there, the brunette stepped downwards with a solo air—no one beside him, no one next to him, no one speaking to him.

His life had gone from duet to solo in the matter of minutes, in that short of a time-span, and it shocked Toris to the core; how fragile it had all been, how it could just shatter with a touch from Fate.

And for a while…before he had known Feliks was gone forever…

…He had been almost thinking about not forgiving him…

…For the one-night stand with Gilbert, for the being away for so long, for _everything_…

…Did the Gods have to let him _die_ to get a point across…!? That he should forgive the man he loved, even after all of that…!? That fighting was useless, that it was love that was powerful…?!

He could spot the crowd gazing upon him, watching his trek down the steps—and he could also spot a silver-haired, red-eyed boy respectfully placing a red rose down on the steps; his instincts told him to attack, to scream, yell, blame—if Gilbert had not been…if he had not…Then Feliks' phone-call would not have been so…so horribly sad and despondent…

_No, no, don't…don't do anything, not now…Feliks would not have wanted that…_

The older Beilschmidt, who had been residing at his younger brother's home for eons, locked eyes with him but for just a second, until the German broke the gaze, a shameful color coming unto his face.

There was the limo, his target, and Toris would have made it there in a matter of seconds had not a voice stopped him, stating calmly,

"Toris."

It was the Acting President of the nation, Bronislaw Komorowski, and Toris found his feet grinding to a halt, giving a bow to the man who had called out to him at the foot of the steps.

"Sir. Good morning…"

"Toris…I am-"

"With all due respect Sir, if you are going to say, 'I am sorry for your loss', please. Do not. I…I just…" Toris found himself trailing off, his eyes becoming wet with hearty speed.

"…Understandable, Master Lorinaithis. I just wish to say that we heartily give our condolences to your own personal loss. Many…Many families were…were affected, including yours."

"…Family? A family, Sir? Sir, it was just Feliks and I-"

"And that is a family, yes? I know you two were partners—is that not a family?" Komorowski was wise, his age showing as his calm essence filtered out, touching Toris deeply, "You were all he had, what with his parents passing on awhile ago. And you two were always together, yes?"

"…Yes…But…Sir…"

"Hmm?"

"…Y-You are right, about the 'family' part…but…" The more youthful one trailed off again, another common action on this day, and once his jade eyes began to wet themselves even more so, a tear or two escaping the dam of his strength, the Acting President spoke up, a comforting hand coming to rest on Toris' aching and shaking shoulder.

"…Toris…I know we are both facing hard-rock Hell; it may seem that there are flames everywhere, so much chaos…And-"

"And I do not know where to go from here, Sir…" His voice cracked as the truth finally came out.

…Where _was_ he to go from here…?

Feliks was all that he had had for years and years, ever since they were little boys, ever since the World Wars from decades ago; how could he move on when the one other life that mattered had been snuffed out in an instant, due to pilot-esque errors?

There was to be no more bubbling Pole greeting him in the mornings, no happy blonde wearing those delightfully frilly skirts, making jokes at the world meetings and summits…

…_Was_ there anything left…? Anything at _all_…?

"…Toris, a wise man once told me that we do not 'move on', but we 'live on'," Komorowski stated as kindly as possible, "It is impossible to get over a tragedy of this magnitude, even if you are only grieving for one person. But…Time will pass, and we—this nation, and the other mourners—will become stronger. It is as if we are all phoenixes; we will die, but eternally rise. Nothing will stop us, Toris."

"…H-He was…He was my first love though! How do you expect me to live on-"

"Because it is human nature, Toris. We have been living on for years and years, after angry acts of terror, after natural travesties, after…after purely accidental deaths. Which is what happened to Feliks. He was just…there, and…"

"And it was his time? How…How can we just say…"

"My boy, it is all we can say, for there is nothing else that is able to be said at this time. He was your first love, and, well, he may be your last love, too—you may never find another one to share this life with, or you may. But you will live on—you must live on, for Feliks. He would want it, and I am not saying to do it now, of course. You must mourn, it too is human nature. But…"

"You are…saying I will eventually move on?" He found it unlikely, but this man was decades older, very much his senior—And the Lithuanian needed some form of hope told to him; he needed to be told that he would be well down the road, even if he was not wont to believe it. But the Acting President's words…many of them rang true…Especially when he said Feliks would want him to live on…

"You will. It will happen one day, and you will realize that…life will be alright. You may even still be upset and in pain at that time; you may be in pain for months, for years—but one day, it will just begin to hurt _less_. There will be less tears, less heartache…and more-"

"Memories?"

"…Yes. Now…Just heed my words, and go along. You do not need to see the rest of this, Toris."

"…Thank you for the support, Sir. I can only hope that…it helps."

The Acting President nodded firmly, and the Lorinaithis boy wandered along, the crowd parting like the Red Sea to let the pathway give easy access to the limousine revved and ready to leave the Palace grounds.

Komorowski's words echoed in Toris' mind, even if he did not believe the majority of them—the ones considering how and when he would be able to live on were so gray at this point, so unknown, and that alone scared Toris to a great extent.

…But the points consisting of 'why' he should live on were clear…

"_Bye Bye, Baby…"_

Feliks would not want his sorrow—the blonde had always hated it when he used to cry, over the silliest and littlest things, things that were nonsensical, mainly. The Pole had always reprimanded him, saying 'Like, cry over something worth the tears, Liet!'

But…was his life not worth crying over…?

…_No…No, he would not want tears over his death…_

_His life, maybe, yes…to be sorrowful when mourning his life, which is understandable…But…_

The other nineteen year old had once told him, in a miraculous fit of wisdom that had lasted all but a few moments,

"_Toris, like…is there really ever a reason to mourn? I mean…Yeah, you miss the person, but…like, shouldn't you be happy that you knew them? That you met them? Like…all the people I know get wrapped up in death, and…and it's just sad."_

_Toris had replied with, "But…you miss them, Feliks."_

"_Yeah, but…Why do you have to be sad to miss them? Who made that a rule? What if they did all these great things in their life, and then they die, and then you just…cry about their death. Shouldn't mourning be about saying 'HEY, he was a great President!' or 'I loved how he smiled' or 'He always made me laugh!'?"_

"…_" Toris had never thought of it like that, and he remained silent, giving his lover an opening for further speak,_

"_Toris, I just think that…If…If we love someone, we give them a happy send-off once and a while. I mean, if I'm on the other side, or Heaven, I don't, like, want to see you cry!"_

"…_Why are you even saying any of this?"_

_"Because I love you, Baby. And…And I just think you need another view on it all, you know?"_

_"…Yeah…"_

The conversation had ended there, and was somewhat awkward until Feliks rested his head on the other male's lap; it turned out that the whole topic had come into the blonde's mind because of a recent terrorist attack in another nation—many a life was lost, and Feliks later said,

"_It just got me thinking, is all."_

And now the deceased one's words were returning home to Toris, and he realized that his friend, companion, and lover had been right—soon enough, his tears would not be worth shedding, his anger would not be worth expressing, and his heart was not worth breaking.

Feliks' life was worth everything, though—and it was worth remembering, honoring, and revering; and who knew what the Pole was thinking of all of this in the Heavens; he could hate all the tears, he may just find disgust in all this touching burial motions, and ideas.

But it was all speculation, Toris realized, as the lean, sleek vehicle pulled away, exiting the grounds, the iron gate passing by the tinted windows; it was all speculation as to what the dead wanted and hated—it was not as if we could ask, now could we?

_...But we can remember their past selves…What they did and did not want before…before their passing…_

And Feliks had never wanted mourning for his death—neither did Toris, now that he really thought of it; there were more important things at hand, like…like…

…_Like trying to find a way to live on…_

Now it really made sense; that was what one needed to concentrate on—for many died each day, but many still lived each day—and with each minute of their lover's passing, they lived…but they also lived _on_…

Which is what a nation had to do—and if an entire country could do it, then so could Toris Lorinaithis, yes indeed.

But the question, the two questions, still remained:

_How do I live on…?_

_And When does the living on begin…?_

He did not know, and Feliks had never said—nor had the Acting President known. No one knew…For it was different for everyone, and no set time could ever be said.

It would not be tomorrow for Toris—or the next day, or even the next month. He could not say, not at this time…

…But soon enough, he would know.

Oh, yes, he would know…

_**

* * *

**__**Five Months Later…**_

* * *

The bed was still cold, but it got warmer by the day…

The sun still rose---Armageddon was not here yet…

And now there were _two_ tapes in the Lithuanian's possession, and a new nightly ritual.

The answering machine was heard on and off again, whenever his craving for Feliks' voice grew strong enough—but not every part was heard, of course. There was no need to hear the Pole nearly crying; but his classic phrase was heard for three months straight, daily,

"…_Bye, Baby…"_

And each time, Toris could hear the unspoken phrase of, "I'll be home with you soon."

Which, in all aspects, was still true…

But another tape had been found; this, of a video he and the blonde had recorded. Each night, for the rest of his nights, Toris would watch parts of it, or all of it, just to catch his lover's smile and voice.

It was not risqué, racy—it was wholesome and sweet.

"_Nnngh…Toris! I-I was sleeping!"_

"_Aww, come on! We just bought this camera…"_

_"What, you want to, like, tape me…doing stuff…?" A blush stirred in with a pout came onto Feliks' face, and the Lithuanian holding the camera could be heard laughing,_

"_Nah! Just…Just say something! I'll be videotaping everyone, I bet!"_

_"Hmph. I'm your lover, tape me the most!"_

That was his Feliks alright…Wanting to be the center of his attention…

Which he would be…forever.

"_Fine, fine, I will! Just…just say something!"_

_"But I'm, like, nearly naked-"_

_"So? That never stopped you before!"_

Toris found himself laughing at the scene—although he had seen it many times already, this was the first time he had laughed aloud at it…along with it being the first time he laughed in months.

"_Fine. Toris is insane enough to want to videotape me at eleven o' clock at night, when he SHOULD BE IN BED…But, I still love him."_

_"Aww, that's…scarily sweet, Feliks-"_

_"Yes, Baby, I know. Now, turn that off, 'kay?"_

_"…You sure you don't want to do those things-"_

_"TURN IT OFF!" It was a scream, but it was sprinkled with laughter, with joy, and the videotaping Lithuanian laughed at the same moment._

"_Fine, fine…Night, Feliks."_

"_Night Baby, heh."_

That last line was the main reason Toris kept watching it—in a way, each night, his lover, his only lover, was wishing him goodnight.

"…Night Feliks."

Whereas there had been Kleenex boxes littering the nightstand, there now only stood a picture of a love remaining strong through Hellfire; there was a separation that would only last for a little while longer, a few more decades—even Toris would see his own mortality soon enough.

But for now, while there was still life in his veins, he had to rebuild…

And Live…

Feliks would not have wanted it any other way…

He was mourning, still, yes, and for the rest of his years, he would 'mourn'---but not how many expected mourning to take place.

He had cried, he had struggled—for five months, he had had to rely on friends for remembering things, for doing things, for even waking up in the goddamn morning.

But there was a point where he could only cry for so long…

A nation was recovering…Poland's new President was leading strongly, while ashes were buried, and blame was not placed.

And so was his own heart…

Heaven had burned, burned to a crisp—and only one could rebuild it, since Feliks' hands were immobile for the rest of Time.

But Toris had done it so, so perfectly…

He still felt tears coming forth at the best, and worst, of times; but that was only normal, only wanted, and what should have been happening…

But at this tape, at the memories…

He could only _smile_…

A quick rewind, and it echoed out again: the phrase that helped make the bed less cold, the sunrises less evil, and the memories less cruel:

"_Night Baby, heh…"_

"…Goodnight…"

It is said that death can never separate those in love—it only detains one of the souls for a good, long while.

It is also said that the dead can hear our prayers, and watch us from above…

And Toris, in these moments, believed both to be utterly and wholly true…

A light clicked off, while lights clicked on in a heart…

And stars shone down in a shimmering shine…

Heaven used to be here, in this bed…

It had burned…and now was relocated in a heart that had bleed…

But the Heaven above still existed…

And some say, on that night on a cold September…

A voice of a young boy taken too soon let out a laugh of joy…as his soul hugged a lover who was doing what was needed:

Living on…

* * *

_Baby, Our Heaven's Burning_

_And I can't hold on much longer_

_Hell's ghosts are churning_

_And I'm starting to wish I had been stronger_

_But before I let you go_

_And let the Seraphim guide me home_

_Let's take it slow, easy and slow,_

_And let us pray my soul fails to roam_

_Baby, it's ending now_

_But I'm far from sorry_

_And as I give a graceful bow_

_I beg of you not to Parry_

_Let us not fight, for there is no reason to_

_Just kiss me, kiss me farewell_

_As the sky turns red from blue_

_And shed not a tear at the ring of the death knell_

_Baby, Our Heaven's Burning_

_And it's time for me to leave_

_Everything's Twisting, the World is Turning_

_And I know it is your time to grieve_

_Leave not tears,_

_Leave not a rose_

_Banish fears_

_While the North Winds Blows_

_Baby, Our Heaven's Burning_

_And Fate commands my demise_

_I leave you wide and yearning_

_And I cannot hear your goodbyes_

_Goodbyes that came just a day too late_

_But forgiveness now exists here_

_Mark a day of mourning upon this date_

_As the last of my body comes to disappear_

_Baby, Our Heaven is Ash_

_And I say your name one last time_

_And beg of Acts not rash_

_Just remember the Love Sublime_

_Baby, Our Heaven is Gone_

_Its Gates can only be Rebuilt by You_

_My hands: dead, foregone_

_And I can only bid adieu _

_You Shall Build Another, Baby_

_Another Utopia of Diamond Glass_

_Life Might just be fine, Maybe_

_Even after Death comes to Pass_

_Baby, Our Heaven's Burned_

_Your Love I shall miss_

_But I leave this Realm, so much Learned_

_I had a Heaven, of perfect bliss_

_Farewell, Baby, Baby Love_

_I now return Home, on the back of a Mourning Dove…_

_- Title: "Baby, Our Heaven's Burning"_

* * *

**END**

* * *

A/N: So, bittersweet ending :] But I wanted to get a message across, really. Not only should we never forget how these men and women's lives were lost, but we should more importantly remember their LIVES. And how many of us were touched by their embrace, their ideas and strength…and their love. Just as Toris in this was touched by Feliks', and will forever remember him.

Yes, I was inspired by tragedy—but sometimes that does happen.

Anyway, I'm off to write the next chapter of my story 'Let Me Be Your Savior'—I do need a pick-me-up after this sorrowful tale, yes?

Thanks for reading, and I hope it made you think :]


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